


make me say it again (you’re all i need)

by capmackie



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, The Author is Soft for Sambucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-24 07:11:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20701988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capmackie/pseuds/capmackie
Summary: And in Sam’s defense, he had packed all of the essentials: extra boxers, another set of toothbrushes — enough lube to make a pornstar blush — a tiny black box with a gold band inside, y’know the essentials.





	make me say it again (you’re all i need)

Sam knows Bucky would be more sympathetic if he _literally _hadn’t told him a thousand times to bring his gloves.

But Sam, _so sure of any and everything_ — Bucky’s words, not his own — had assured him a thousand times more that he packed everything needed for his weekend getaway to visit Bucky in New York.

And in Sam’s defense, he had packed all of the essentials: extra boxers, another set of toothbrushes — enough lube to make a pornstar blush — a tiny black box with a gold band inside, y’know the essentials. 

Working and living in D.C., Sam was used to the temperament in his hometown, where he rarely had to go all out with winter accessories. Normally, a knit beanie and a matching scarf was all of the defense he needed from the bite of the cold. And given the close proximity of D.C to New York, he didn’t see the pressing need to double check for gloves.

Plus, the whole matter of proposing to his boyfriend, offering Bucky the chance to spend the rest of his life with him and hoping, _praying_ Bucky says yes, is definitely taking precedence over winter accessories.

With that in mind, Sam vows to pick up a pair in the airport to save him and Bucky the trouble.

Armed with only a duffel bag, Sam boards the plane to New York, willing himself to relax. This is a trip he’s taken a hundred times, can predict the next sequence of events with absolute certainty. He knows Bucky’s gonna be late — waiting until the last minute to leave the office like traffic to and from an airport isn’t an _bitch_ — can already see his flustered expression when he finally makes it to the ‘pickup’ zone. Can taste the apology in the kisses he’ll pepper on Sam and hear it too when Bucky finally pulls away.

A Pavlovian response regarding anything to do with one James Buchanan Barnes, Sam smiles despite the nervousness that’s threatening to swallow him whole. It’s just Bucky, it’s just _them_; nothing’s gonna change their dynamic, and if so, it definitely wouldn’t be something as simple as a proposal.

No, that’s silly.

So Sam reclines in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position — or as comfortable as can be in the cramped, plastic chair. One day, he’s gonna call in a favor to Stark and see if he’ll spring him on a seat in first class. Sam’s not as young as he used to be and the back and forth to New York is really taking a toll on his back.

Closing his eyes, he tries to get some rest before he touches down. And if his hands don’t stop shaking for the duration of the flight, he doesn’t notice it.

***

Just as Sam predicted, Bucky is late, fifteen minutes late to be exact. Right around the average. The first time Sam made the flight to New York to determine if either one of them could handle a long-distance relationship, Bucky was almost an hour late, more or less proving that the distance could be too much for two already fragile men. But they rebounded and Sam knew time nor space could keep them apart again.

Also as predicted, Bucky, practically throwing the car into an empty space, appears just as flustered and absolutely gorgeous as Sam expects. The next part is a whirlwind of loading his stuff, letting Bucky smother him with kisses and whispers of how much he missed the younger man and then he’s sinking into the butter leather seats of Bucky’s car, fitting his fingers in between the ones of Bucky’s right hand.

And damn it, he’s missed _this._

Missed how perfectly his hand fits in between Bucky’s, how Bucky seems to fit perfectly in Sam’s life, how nothing else matters but the solid, warm weight of Bucky’s hand intwined in his.

The world has sufficiently reduced itself to the four doors of the car and to the man on the left of Sam and he is perfectly fine with that. And as much as that _should_ alarm him, how each time he’s sure he’s filled to the brim with love and if he fell any deeper for the man next to him, he might explode; his heart stretches a little bit more and somehow Bucky knows this and pours more of himself into the new space 

But this can’t last forever right?

At some point, he has to burst at the seams, has to flood Bucky with the raw emotion he feels and then what? What if Bucky can’t reciprocate the same love, _what if Bucky doesn’t love him back at all?_

“Volkswagen”

The mention of their code word snaps Sam’s out of his despair, if only briefly.

Suffering from their own set of traumas, ‘Volkswagen’ is both an identifier that one of them is too deep in their own head and a plea to let it out. Created after a particularly rough night of nightmares for Bucky, the word is a safe space. An offering for shelter from whatever besets the other man.

“Nothing man”, Sam says easily, “just a little tired.”

Bucky watches him intently, seeing right through Sam’s lie. But a warning to _watch the road_ averts his gaze and he lets it go for now, much to Sam’s relief.

Sam keeps his expression perfectly neutralized until the cloud passes and he feels more like himself; laughing at Bucky’s work stories, about the prank war in the office after someone stole someone else’s lunch.

It’s the kind of distraction he needed and by the small smile pulling on the corner of Bucky’s mouth, Bucky knew he needed it to.

And that’s — thats’s another reason Sam is so hopelessly in love.

Bucky’s just too good to be true.

***

By the time they’ve made it to Bucky’s place and relieved Sam of his bags, it’s dinner time and Bucky suggests making the 15 minute trek to the pho spot down the block, a personal favorite of Sam’s.

“I told you to bring gloves Wilson”, Bucky says, sensing the hesitation on Sam’s behalf, chalking it up to the weather and the man’s lack of planning.

But that’s not quite it.

His hands’ll be cold out there, no doubt about it, but that’s nothing compared to how cold they feel when they aren’t encompassed with Bucky’s own hands. Or as cold as they feel when Bucky’s passing him his luggage back, seeing him off as he boards another flight back to his empty apartment in D.C.

Or as cold as they feel now since Bucky’s stopped holding them in favor of softly cradling Sam’s head, whispering “Volkswagen”.

And Sam knows he can’t lie again, not like earlier. He has to get this off his chest lest it suffocate him entirely.

“If this is about the gloves, I was only joking”, Bucky pleads, worry etched on his face.

“It’s not about the gloves.”

“Then what it is Sam? Huh?”

“You’ve has this wounded puppy look all day, _lying_ to me, just — just tell me what’s going on”.

Bucky voice rises and it’s enough to snap Sam out of whatever self-imposed stupor he’s found himself in.

“Do you not want to do this anymore?”, Bucky whispers, almost as if he’s afraid of the answer.

But it’s at _that_, at what Bucky just said that finally gets Sam to move. To know that he isn’t the only one here with doubts, that Bucky is just as vulnerable as he is, gives him the will to close the space between them, almost face planting into Bucky with the wanton need to kiss him silly.

Speaking of silly — it’s so silly for Bucky to think there’s an _either-or_ here, like he didn’t ruin Sam for anyone else the day they laid eyes on each other. Silly to think that the man who is Sam’s sun, moon, stars, _entire galaxy _could ever think that this isn’t where he wants to be wholly and fully. Absolutely ludicrous that James Buchanan Barnes could ever think something short of the world ending could separate them.

“Well then”, Bucky breathes. And Sam gets it, he’s breathless himself. Pulling back to rest their foreheads together, Sam knows this is as good as time as any to make his move.

Breaking apart, he goes to his bag, removing the boxers and toothbrushes — the industrial tub of lube — feeling around the bottom of the duffel until his fingers brush the tiny box. He’s already kneeling so he just has to turn around and wait for Bucky to figure it out, where this is going.

“Samuel Thomas Wilson, what in the absolute fuck are you doing?”

“What does it look like James Buchanan Barnes?”

“Looks like you’re proposing to me.”

“Pretty _and_ smart, how did I get so lucky?”

“Oh, fuck you Wilson”. Laughter tinges his words and Sam’s heart flutters at the sound, drinking it in like a man in a desert being offered his first sip of water. But Bucky hasn’t said yes, hasn’t moved closer and despite himself, Sam can feel the dread creeping up his spine again — _what if Bucky doesn’t love him back at all?_

“Of course I’ll marry you baby”.

And just like that the dread is gone, the crushing weight of his own self-doubt is replaced by the feel of Bucky lifting him up, wrapping his arms around him, simultaneously grounding him and making him feel like he can fly all the same.

***

They’re finally walking to the restaurant and Sam’s hands are freezing just like Bucky said they would be — _don’t forget to bring a pair of gloves Wilson_ and he knows Bucky’s must be cold too since he also left his at home.

But neither of them seem to mind the chill. Because when they link hands, there’s the unmistakable feeling of the gold band between them and that makes the eventual frostbite worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> oh baby, this got more angsty than i planned. 
> 
> tumblr : capmackie


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